Abraxas
by the-ramen-fiend
Summary: Spoiler: Up to 365 Sasuke has died unexpectedly before he can meet with Itachi. The elder Uchiha takes up a responsibility he had hoped would never be left to him, and struggles through his demons as he returns to a place he once called home. ItaSaku.


A new one I regret starting, tbh. Should really deal with the other two first. Aw. Fuck it.

This is an ItaSaku. It deviates from the manga before Hebi meets up with Sharky, and he leads them to you-know-who (winkwink).

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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**Abraxas**

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_**"Men ought either to be well treated or crushed... injury ought to be of such a kind that one does not fear revenge"**_

_**Niccolo Machiavelli, "The Prince".**_

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**_**Chapter One**

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Itachi had seen it coming, but chosen quite uncharacteristically to do nothing about it.

Hatake Kakashi's knee came crashing into contact with the Uchiha's stomach, despite the former leaf shinobi showing no desire to threaten anyone of Kakashi's team, including the copy-nin himself.

Itachi is knocked off balance and falls to the floor before the pain really registers. His vision blacks out momentarily, as if even his sight was attempting block out this sorry situation.

Lying on the forest floor he grimaces, though none of his attackers are aware of this.

To the antagonists, for what would seem like hours, there is no movement. It seems as if even the forest dares not stir. No leaves swirl in this cautious wind, no birds twittered. Time lay suspended, gripped in a vice of a maddening, deafening silence.

_How pathetic. _Itachi scowls at his own predicament, his degradation as a shinobi. He takes a deep, strained breath and buries his face in the grass. His pride at least is surely worth less than his conscience.

_Surely?_

All his years of planning, all his hopes, all his desires, seemed to have crumpled to the floor as easily as he had just fallen to the ground. He was no more than an empty sack, a soulless corpse. This weakness was like a knife twisting in his side, reopening a wound that had never truly healed. Thus, Itachi showed no retaliation. He could not, for he needs to be allowed to live beyond this sorrowful point.

Surprise had stunned them to stagnation, an empty silence. Itachi senses his attackers' hesitation. He can see no movement from their feet, no change in their stance, nor the viscous, liquid-blue hue of chakra swelling in their chests and limbs.

There is only this prolonged stillness, a shocked trepidation, and so Itachi listens to the forest. He listens to the crows cawing and crying high above his head, watching his body with eyes as bloodthirsty as vultures'. He feels the tiny blades of grass stinging his cheeks, his mouth and eyelids, as if they too were infuriated by his presence, as if they too wanted him to feel as unwelcome as the people standing tall and antagonistic in front of him. He could smell the rot and decay below this surface of luscious viridian, the bodies that had decomposed below.

Never before had he considered the world so mad, so dazed and confused. He was trapped in the cruel prison of shock, of carnage, and of pain. A soulful, sickening pain that would leave any of a lesser character bruised, broken and beyond repair. Itachi felt so much pain it was too difficult for anyone else to notice, for it consumed so much of him.

The crows swarmed like insects, and the sight was frustrating to watch. Their noise was maddening, the harsh flutter of their wings completely unrelenting.

It was in these moments that Itachi realised he had rarely seen the world as a sane place.

After minutes of awkward idleness, Itachi was half expecting to be staring into the otherworldly face of Death, and see his soul rise from a bloodied body like a spirit thinner than the cursed breath of his lungs. Any second now, he thinks, for he could feel the deathly intent, like the heat from the Sun on his back, radiating with pure malevolence from his persecutors.

He imagined Hatake Kakashi, standing high and bewildered, his hands stunned to immobility from the Uchiha's surprising submission, from the promise of an easy, mindless death of a man who could have easily taken them all to their graves in one grievous blink of his eyes.

But the façade was smashed, and the silence was crushed.

A cry came from another squad member, and Itachi felt his incensed steps as he marched, with full murderous vigour, towards the Uchiha's limp body.

Itachi's eyes closed. He was tugged from the ground like a broken puppet and thrown against a tree. He felt the bark buckle beneath his back, and the cool sap inside the tree seep into the fabric of his coat. All in a second, that was all it took for him to realise he was still very, very much alive.

"I'M GOING TO FUCKING RIP YOU TO SHREDS YOU SICK SACK OF SHIT!" The words were screamed, but Itachi felt immune, numbed by his own impassive anaesthetic. A fist smacked his cheek like a rock.

"IT'S YOUR FAULT!" Another smack and Itachi was smashed into the floor.

"IT'S ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT HE'S LIKE THAT!" This was accompanied by a ferocious kick into Itachi's ribs. The bones cracked under the force, but Itachi showed no sign of pain, though the blood welled behind his teeth.

_You are correct. _As the young shinobi screams these professions of hatred, Itachi all the while agrees, inwardly, and shows no sign of defending himself. The boy is true, he reasons, and he does not mind taking a beating for this severe miscalculation. For the time being, this all seemed justified.

Another cry, but this time it's more from frustration, and less from fury.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" The Uzumaki boy screeched in rage as Itachi lay perfectly still, not lifting a finger, not even brandishing a kunai or dangerous look from his fiery sharingan. He kicked Itachi's ribs, the same place as before, repeatedly. "DO SOMETHING YOU BASTARD!"

Blood ran from Itachi's mouth in runnels and dripped onto the forest floor. He peered up at Naruto, grazes tearing at his usually immaculate face. His eyes were dark, almost black as his hair hid them from view. His hair was bloodied and matted. His clothes were ruined, and his side collapsing under the strain of the broken ribs. There was very little he could do, especially as he stared up into the uncompromising eyes of Uzumaki Naruto. In the heat and anger and despair, Itachi couldn't help notice their unusual coldness. It was peculiar sight, as coldness was not a word one could often associate with the Kyuubi-boy. Once bright and crystalline, Naruto's eyes seemed too icy in colour, already limpid enough to resemble the glaciers from far, far up North.

The Naruto boy squealed in irritation, in anger, in hatred, and all Itachi could see was hurt. Hatred and hurt.

_Hatred from hurt? _Itachi recalled these thoughts; they had been his own, his masterminded scheme from so long ago.

Naruto's wailing seemed to reach its crescendo and the blond finally subdued himself, his body shaking and sweating.

They stared at each other, neither one moving. Naruto kept his temper in check, whilst Itachi kept feebly from passing out. Behind them Kakashi stood motionless, his silvery hair swaying slightly in the almost imperceptible wind. Standing next to him, Itachi saw another boy who in the strangest way resembled Sasuke. He appeared the most rational of the four, his skin too pale and face as impeccably emotionless as Itachi's own. On the other hand, the girl next to Kakashi seemed to be flaring her own chakra, quietly, although just enough to take notice. Itachi noticed her hands were gloved and fisted, her body tensed in restraint.

It appeared to him they were all- inwardly or outwardly- plotting his execution, and to be perfectly fair, why shouldn't they? Whether it be by axe, by fist, by sword, by water or fire, Itachi tensed, knowing he might just be out of luck.

Feeling this was his only chance, Itachi propped himself upright against the broken tree. He winced noticeably from the pain, but cared nothing for his obvious show of weakness. He was quite beyond caring about that now. Perhaps it would, out of a stroke of luck, produce some sort of endearment?

_I doubt that, severely… _He wonders, and hopes the loss of blood and internal bleeding hasn't finished him off already.

He opened his mouth to speak, but only blood flowed. It rushed up from his punctured lung and spluttered onto the grass in clots as he took every pained, and struggling breath. He keeled over, and felt a blackness thinning the light of the clearing; haziness surrounded the faces of his attackers. It was like everything had turned gossamer, like a sea mist hiding the jagged cliffs from the ships that passed.

This had been another miscalculation, but it would at least allow him to live for a little while longer.

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Nobody moved as Itachi pulled himself upright. Nobody even breathed. And nobody moved for sometime after he had passed out, his limp body surrounded by little splotches of his blood. The scene was so bizarre; the blood seemed to resemble flowers- poppies, perhaps?

It had been shock enough to encounter him, let alone discover his reluctance to fight. It was the strangest scenario any could have dreamt.

Naruto stood confused and vicious above Itachi's vulnerable form. He felt a surge of power prod his anger, and a slight quiver shudder through his entire body as he forced himself to watch wide-eyed and deadly. The cold sweat did nothing to cool him- it was like being on fire, like someone had chucked too much spice and pepper in his ramen.

Any moment now the Uchiha, the _real _one, would fly from the canopies and spirit him away like all the other jinchuuriki. He'd kill Kakashi, kill Sakura, kill Sai, and there would be nothing Naruto could do about it. He couldn't allow such a thing. He couldn't even allow himself to blink.

He was sure of it; as sure as he was of the Konoha blood gushing through his veins.

He took a step forward and raised his arm. There was something therapeutic in such physical aggression, something more satisfying in that type of destruction compared to a swirling Rasengan.

"Naruto!" Kakashi's voice sounded, hard and commanding, though noticeably tense. His bark was quickly accompanied by the jounin's hand clasping his arm as tight as a dog's bite.

Naruto shuddered, his teeth bared. "What?" He replied, snarling. He couldn't look at his sensei, couldn't tear is eyes away from the broken man sprawled against the damaged tree.

"Stop… now," Kakashi's eyes were mismatched, like the eyes of a patchwork doll. The scar etched into his sharingan-eye socket appeared particularly red and angry at this very minute.

"Why the fuck should I do that?" The blond growled, still not meeting Kakashi's concerned eyes. He felt nothing but fury- an all encompassing, darkened fury, like a poisonous, feverish fog, suffocating him, trapping him inside a bell jar of his own anger and resentment. It was almost too much to resist. "He fucking deserves it,"

"Undoubtedly," Kakashi agreed, but his voice was quiet. "However, he's unconscious, and he's alone,"

"So?"

Kakashi turned Naruto around. The elder of the two was surprised at how easily his pupil obeyed, however reluctant the blond was. They both turned to the faces of their comrades, who were both deathly silent.

Naruto caught the glance of Sakura, and he could see the same bloody desire as his in her own eyes. She didn't move an inch though, not like him. Instead, she hunched into herself slightly, turned her head away, and crossed her arms across her chest. It was like she couldn't handle watching something this strange and confusing any longer.

Sai stood very still, as if the speed of this occurrence had happened too quickly, and even too randomly for him. He surveyed the form of the unconscious Uchiha Itachi with interest and curiosity, and for once was probably the sanest of the four. He was certainly the most composed of the four, as even Kakashi could barely subdue his quiet bitterness.

It was here Naruto became aware of the flurry of soot-black birds circling high above the clearing, cawing and tossing themselves into a blind rage. This Murder of crows wanted blood; they were not Itachi's birds.

_Or are they. _He glared, feeling the urge to slaughter them all, just to make sure. A breeze suddenly appeared, a harder breeze that rustled the trees, and brought a chill from the North. The chill was so sudden and creepy, it was like a scene from one of the old legends, one of those old ghost stories.

Weren't ghosts supposed to bring the cold?

Still, this could not distract him. With his back turned, Naruto flinched as his muscles still contracted, ready to kill, ready to maul like an animal. He could barely remember the last time he felt such rage.

"Calm down," Kakashi commanded, and Naruto knew this was in reference to the pained shaking attacking his body like a fever. His sinister, darker chakra flared. "Calm down. He's worth far more to us alive than dead, understand that,"

They all knew that bombshell already, but it was still a difficult thing to do. That piece of filth deserved everything he got and more.

"He's right, Naruto," Sakura said, though her voice was little more than a strained whisper. There was a knife in her side, too.

_Don't take him from Sasuke- _That was what she truly meant, but would never utter it aloud.

"He'll meet his maker, rest assured," Kakashi stated, but did not unclasp Naruto's arm and did not move an inch away. It was as if he could not trust the young man standing next to him, the boy on the fringe of manhood he'd trained through thick and thin. He was treating Naruto like an untrustworthy stranger. On any other occasion, the erratic blond would have been insulted.

Giving in, Naruto sighed and persisted in calming himself. Only when Kakashi was satisfied did the jounin let him free. With a slight nudge from his hand, Kakashi indicated that Naruto was to move away, closer to Sai and Sakura, completely out of Itachi's vicinity.

The masked ninja then turned his attention back to the lolling form of Uchiha Itachi.

The others watched as he stood sombrely, taking out his familiar scroll and unleashed a parry of seals. Kakashi's largest ninja dog sprung from the ground in a chaotic frenzy of crumbling earth. The dog howled and woofed in appreciation of its master, tail wagging with joy. Kakashi patted its head and ordered it to carry the infamous man, and to follow his heels back to Konoha.

In seconds, even the dog grew tense and alert to the shadowy atmosphere of this surreal day, to the black cloud looming over this benign and haunted clearing.

Like a shadow of the clouds, the crows had clustered into a group so large that the Sun was barely able to push its light through the treetops. There was no running from birds like these.

"If he moves, restrain him; he's weak," Kakashi ordered and the dog proceeded with a careful caution that seemed too intricate for a dog of its size.

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_Am I dying? _That was the first, heart quickening thought that gripped Itachi as he came back to the land of the living. He was sure he was dying- how else could he feel this terrible and bare it? His mind was blocked, as if that hazy mist had swallowed and consumed it, like a poisonous cloud of the thickest smog. He was hungry, and dehydrated. His hair was loose as he felt it stream down his slender back, like a cloak of satin. From the tickle of those loose strands, he deduced that he was topless.

The rest of his body was numb, as if encased in the hardest, coldest ice. The mist in his mind was like the mist that gushed down the mountains in coldest of waves.

_Why am I not dying? _

His eyes, attempting to slip open, were unable to, due to their unusual heaviness. It was a cold, clean type of light, stripped of any warmth. It was one used for clinical purposes, like operations…

_Or interrogations. _Itachi was rather impressed. Konohagakure was pulling no punches, taking no prisoners. They had placed him straight into interrogation, despite his body still aching and grinding in pain.

A wry smirk lifts his features as he remembers that someone like him was supposed to see no mercy. It seemed he would never find peace with this hapless place.

Minutes passed, and gradually Itachi's other senses awoke to these strange surroundings. He could hear the reverberations of footsteps along the flagstone corridors beyond this room, the people moving above him on the next floor. He counted each individual step to pace himself, to ease his suffering and focus his mind on something other than the moaning pain in his side. This concentration helped him wake to the world, and soon, with some heart-quickening amount of terror, he realised that he was not only topless, but also completely naked.

The metal of the steel chair cut into his buttocks, and this information helped to serve the Uchiha in working out how long he had been left here. Other pains emerged, like a constant, grousing pain in the back of his throat. It felt as if he had swallowed a giant vat of acid. A pain below his left eye bespoke the beating Uzumaki Naruto had awarded, and a patched job of his punctured lung seemed shamelessly insufficient.

They planned to use and abuse him, and when he was useless, throw him and all other shards of evidence in a lonely unmarked grave, hardly deep enough to deter the scavenging animals. These images wash in and out of Itachi's hazy awareness like a tiny boat caught in a squall.

Itachi's eyes, as if those of a newborn, stretched open. His pupils twitched and vision blurred as the hot, searing light burst into view. It was as bright as the Sun when connected with his dark pupils, scorching them to the retina. His eyelids fluttered closed reflexively, and stayed shut as he altered his position.

There was no kindness in that light.

The chair wobbled as the Uchiha, eyes now pinched shut, straightened his back. A pain, like a needle shooting up through his spine shattered into every nerve ending with the force of a sledgehammer. It left his body burnt and tingling, as if he had been shocked by electricity.

A dizzying feeling of nausea made his head spin, and Itachi felt for a moment like he was tumbling into death. The metallic, wretched taste of blood rose up his throat and out through his mouth once again. He was half-collapsed, but could still feel the sickly liquid gushing down his front. This feeling of helplessness was so rare it was like that of a particularly terrible nightmare, something he had never predicted.

_Footsteps? _The echoes of movement bounce off the cold walls. Voices, vague and unclear in this darkness sound like mummers of nonsensical gibberish.

The smell of burning wax fills Itachi's nostrils, and some small, comforting warmth, as well as a light shines near his left cheek. The heat flickered, as if it were a flame in the wind.

Someone speaks to him- he knows this for, although their voice is quiet and inaudible- Itachi can feel their presence, the heat radiating from their body, the small whisper of their breath as they speak to him directly.

Itachi does not reply; he is unable. More speech echoes through the room, bouncing off the walls.

Something taps his cheek. Realistically, Itachi observes, this would be more than a "tap". He was probably backhanded.

Just as his vision was about to re-establish its presence, something cold and deathly icy washed over his entire body. It stung like hell, but he made no movement, no acceptance of the pain. He sat, frowned, and forced his open.

The dark, cylindrical basin of a bucket that had previously been full of water confronted him. Droplets lingered on the edge of the rim before plummeting to the floor like tiny, minuscule raindrops. His body began to shake.

"He's awake," Someone announced, and Itachi vaguely recognised the voice, but could not produce a face. This person was nearest to him, yet cast mostly in shadow. He did, even with his poor eyesight, recognise the figure of Hatake Kakashi, whose hair was strikingly difficult to miss. The second possessed the outline of_… Morino Ibiki, perhaps?_ Itachi wasn't entirely sure, but that would be a reasonable assumption.

Those were the figures present.

As his sight settled, there was no conversation.

"He's struggling to breathe," The person towering above him stated, their neck craned in a cautious, swan-like arch. The voice was young and feminine, but only in pitch. Otherwise, it was bitter, cold, and vengeful. There was no feminine warmth. He still did not recognise it.

The other two men stood quietly at the back of the room, calmly bored. Both were leaning on the cold wall. He did not detect any movement from either of them.

Itachi trembled silently from the cold, his eyes following the woman who placed the bucket to one side. Next to where he was seated, a lit candle stood on a small table. The light it omitted was poor, but warm. Next to that was the light that had previously burned his vision. It had been turned off, ready to be used later.

His attention jumped back to the woman as she turned into view, and leaned close, her hands lit with the warmth of chakra. Her face was still cast in the shadow of the room.

Her fingers were soft as they touched his throbbing chest, and the chakra tingled along his skin. A pleasure, so contrary to the nature of this place, erupted along his torso. A gentle feminine caress, even if it was an ordered one, seemed so kind and reassuring in this dark, cave-like hovel.

"Please heal him only to the point where he is stable enough to continue, Sakura," Hatake Kakashi said, and a stony, vice-like tenseness from the words made the young woman in front of him force her chakra into the Uchiha in a way very much unlike before. This time, the healing was forced and hurried. It did not feel like healing at all, it was as if she were forcing his bones into each other, rather than moulding them gently. The pain was, if anything, excruciating, but all Itachi could muster was a small grimace. He was simply too starved and tired, too emotionally and physically exhausted for anything else.

His ears rang with a high-pitched silent scream, and it was here that he registered, finally, who this girl was.

_Haruno Sakura. Team Seven, Sasuke's team, Sasuke's class. _She had been present when he was captured; she was the girl with white, fisted knuckles and the furious expression. She had pink hair and bright eyes.

Suddenly, Sakura's hands shot away from his body as if repelled by lightning.

"That'll do, Kakashi-Sensei," Said the girl (for it dawned on Itachi that she was only a girl, not a woman). "That will see him through this,"

She was light on her feet as she turned and moved away. Her steps were quiet as she left the light, submerging herself fully into the shadows as she talked to her Sensei.

Kakashi's profile came into view, head turned to the side. His portrait cut a perfect line of features onto the limestone wall behind him. Little speech was exchanged.

"See you," The girl's voice was sombre, if not distracted, and Itachi wished he could see her face. A voice could reveal only so much.

A door swung open, then closed. A flash of foreign light from the corridor was mildly distracting from the pain in Itachi's chest. It was as if his internal organs were attacking, knocking each other in some wild, infuriated frenzy. It was pain enough to vomit. Itachi felt used and abused already.

The click of a zippo lighter resounded in the corner of which the man suspected of being Ibiki sat. The flame rose a fiery dagger in the darkness, and Itachi's suspicions were confirmed.

_Morino Ibiki. _

The solemn man toyed with his shiny lighter for a couple of seconds; it was something of a calculating habit, Itachi reasoned. Behind those small, intensely black eyes the man was choosing and considering what was the best way to proceed. The best route to walk.

Ibiki's eyes averted, straight to the ground, as he pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He lit one, and inhaled deeply. He moved out of his chair.

Kakashi had not moved a single inch in these long seconds. He was quite happy to observe from a afar as it were.

Ibiki dragged his chair across to where Itachi was seated, making use of the friction from the stone as he scraped the chair legs across the floor. The sound snapped at Itachi's ears like jagged teeth.

Ibiki then positioned himself comfortably in front of the Uchiha, and sucked heavily on his cigarette once again. He slouched in his chair, legs apart wider than would have been considered polite.

Itachi couldn't help, even with his current predicament, and with Morino Ibiki glaring at him with a tiger's death-stare, couldn't help but laugh inwardly.

_What do they know? _Not much, evidently.

"Uchiha… Itachi…" Ibiki announced the iconic name in blatant disbelief. He sat back in his chair, puffing on his cigarette, keeping his beady eyes locked on Itachi's drowsy, drug-infused gaze. Ibiki's head shook with a dark chuckle. "Fuck me, Hatake, fuck me,"

Itachi sat quietly, but curiously, watching the two ninja's interaction with interest. They were savouring this, surely? If not, then what was taking so bloody long?

He watched as the smoke swirls in the air. It curls, like silky ribbons. It reminded Itachi of a woman he once had. Her hair was a medium-curl, long and luxurious. When she lit her cigarettes, the smoke was lost in her grey, tangling hair, the smog scenting it with a delicious aromatic burning smell that reminded him of wood smoke. The smoke had been trapped, as if it were to become a part of her forever, as if it was assimilated into her being the moment the cigarette touched her lips. That was her smoke.

Ibiki's smoke was free, free and flaying widely into the masked room.

"Where shall we start, Hatake?"

Itachi's gaze never leaves the smoke. It was like he was hypnotised, like his concentration was completely muddled. But he feels the change in the copy-nin's stance. Out the corners of his eyes, Itachi watches as Hatake Kakashi finally comes to life.

"Top to bottom, maybe?" Kakashi suggested. It was a strange notion to Itachi. He could not gauge the silver-haired man's meaning.

The chair rasped along the floor as Kakashi dragged his chair closer to Itachi than Ibiki's.

Slowly, even icily, Itachi swivelled his eyes towards the fellow sharingan-user. He was merely inches away.

A morbid, even electric mood clung to the room, and a deeply riveted tension laid in the space between them. Whereas Itachi regarded Kakashi with a cold indifference, the copy-nin's expression was far more quizzical, even confused. He hunched forward, his forearms leaning lightly on the edge of his knees.

Itachi's head spun slightly. He felt like the whole reality of the room was tumbling off a precarious knife-edge. He knew what he was here for, so why not explain himself? The truth was the truth, after all.

One should not be ashamed by the truth.

"Itachi," Kakashi said, slicing the air with a voice that seemed too cold and full of contempt for such a stoic character. He paused, as if he too were lost for words, unable to speak.

What the hell did you ask this man, a man who had done so much, seen so much? Where do you start, logically?

"Yes?" Itachi replied, murdering the silence; his voice was hoarse and rasping, but he still managed to speak despite the agony this caused him. He was glad his voice did not tremble. He was glad he appeared insolent and impatient.

Kakashi glanced at Ibiki. The older man continued to casually puff on his cigarette, letting Kakashi take the reigns. There was an itinerary of what was to be questioned sitting unused and neglected on Kakashi's lap. Neither looked at it once.

"I suppose…" Itachi began, pausing to grit his teeth as an intensely acute pain throbbed throughout his body. He needed to vomit, and vomit badly. "Unless I am healed properly… I will not survive this much longer,"

By the sinister looks the two interrogators gave him, Itachi was sure of an impending backhand to his face. He waited, but nothing happened. Hatake's eye narrowed instead.

"Sakura said she healed you sufficiently enough, what's wrong now?" Kakashi questioned, silently angry, and Itachi knew why; those words confirmed it. Itachi broke his mask and elicited a small smirk. It was a rash move, but an interesting one by someone so young.

Blood returned behind Itachi's teeth. "She didn't heal me," The liquid spilled down his chin and onto the floor. An intolerable pain all the while erupted from his stomach. _She damaged me more. _

"Fucking hell!" Kakashi cursed as Ibiki looked no less angry with the changing circumstance. Kakashi pulled down his headband and pushed Itachi's head up as he grabbed the man's downcast chin. Morino left the room, stomping and obviously fuming.

Itachi's head was yanked up, and his eyes followed the ascending direction. He was met with a familiar sight, and was conscious enough to understand what was happening.

Itachi groaned, but this was not in pain, this was in frustration. How many more distractions could he endure? Time was running out.

Kakashi' sharingan lolled him into a sense of comforting nothingness, and he was glad of this. Nothingness was easily dealt with, bereavement, on the other hand, was much worse. Maybe, just maybe, if the truth were to ever be uncovered, if he were to survive this act of sabotage, maybe Itachi could finally lie alone and sob. Sob for the brother he hand lost; the little ghost lost in a double-crossing shadow hidden in lies.

_Sorry Sasuke, there will be no next time.

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_

_R&R- solidly appreciated. MC.  
_


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